Widow on the Loose

by Stevie MacFarlane

  “Already done. I’ll show it to you when we get back. Now get dressed. We have an appointment in two hours,” she called over her shoulder as she walked to the doorway. Stopping there, she turned and faced him.

  “I want this, Travis,” she said quietly. “You once said you admired me for wanting to make a difference. If I have to, I’ll get other backers, but I really want to do this with my own money, George’s money,” she corrected. “He would have given it to me and you know it.”

  “Because he could never say no to you, but I can,” Travis advised her sadly. “I can, Claire, and I will if I don’t think you can make it work.”

  “Jesus! Why are you being such a pig-headed jerk? You haven’t even looked at it yet,” she yelled. “Can’t you at least keep an open mind?” Fuming, she glared at him.

  “I’ll try,” he said, but she knew his mind was already moving in other directions. His eyes traveled over her body. She felt herself responding to the heat in his gaze and forced it down.

  “Maybe it would help if you thought of me as a client instead of someone you fucked silly last night,” she suggested sarcastically as she stomped from the room.

  “I’m pretty sure you were silly before last night,” he called after her.

  Travis had to give her credit. While the building was in a depressed area, there were signs it was improving. There was graffiti, but most of it seemed to have more of an artistic bent, more inspirational than gang related. He saw mothers pushing strollers, older folks talking out on the stoops and kids playing in the street.

  The building itself appeared structurally sound, but he wouldn’t do anything until he obtained an inspection. Checking out the empty apartments Travis turned on the water and rolled his eyes at Claire when the pipes started to bang.

  Despite his misgivings, he couldn’t help noticing how animated Claire became when she started describing the changes she wanted to make. He tried to pay attention to talk of big bright rooms filled with educational, fun toys, sleeping mats and cots, and window gardens, but he couldn’t get past the sparkle in her eyes and the way her hands moved a mile a minute.

  For the next three hours, she took his hand and dragged him from one area to another, pointing out where her office would be located, classrooms, play areas and a kitchen with plenty of low tables for the kids to help with preparation. She even showed him the layout she wanted for her own apartment. It seemed she wasn’t going to be particularly fussy about her personal space. In time, she might want to expand upward with an after school program for older children and she would move to the third floor.

  Claire dragged him from the attic to the basement and every nook and cranny in between. They met the one remaining tenant, a pharmacist who worked at the drug store on the corner and talked to him for quite a while about the neighborhood.

  Jackson Thomas was an attractive single man and Travis thought gleefully about telling him he’d have to relocate, until Claire found out he was also a trained EMT and mentioned that maybe something could be worked out so he could stay there. She certainly didn’t need the whole second floor for just her.

  Travis fumed.

  Jackson suggested the three of them walk down to the café on the corner to continue their discussion and Claire agreed.

  “Oh, I could use an iced tea,” she sighed happily. Taking his arm, they nearly skipped down the stone steps with Travis bringing up the rear.

  It was while Claire and Jackson were chatting like long lost friends that a woman and little boy appeared. Claire jumped up almost immediately and the small blond child nearly took her off her feet when he plowed into her, hugging her tightly around her knees.

  “Jeannie,” Claire laughed, taking the arm of the red faced woman who was hot on the little boy’s heels to steady herself.

  “Sorry, Claire,” she sighed. “Charlie, do you have to be such a bulldozer?” she scolded pushing her dark hair off her forehead.

  “He’s okay. I’ve missed you too, buddy.”

  “Where you been, Claire? How come you not at the park anymore?” the blond haired child asked with a pout.

  “I’ve been busy, trying to figure things out, Charlie,” Claire replied ruffling his hair. “Do you want a cold drink?”

  “Sure,” he replied, promptly climbing onto a chair.

  “Really, Claire, it’s not necessary,” Jeannie spoke up, “we’re intruding.”

  “Don’t be silly. This is Travis Forrester; um… a friend of mine and this is Jackson Thomas.”

  Travis stood to shake Jeannie’s hand.

  “Hi, Jeannie,” Jackson replied. “Jeannie and I already know each other. No more ear infections?” he asked.

  “No, not in a while, thank goodness.”

  “Here, come sit by me,” Jackson suggested. Rising he took an empty chair from a nearby table and placed it beside his. “What can I get you two?”

  “I want an orange pop,” Charlie spoke up with a wide smile.

  “I’ll have an iced tea,” Jeannie answered with a blush as she took a seat.

  “How’s work going?” Claire asked, taking a sip of her drink.

  “Oh you know how freelancing is, it’s either feast or famine,” Jeannie replied, thanking Jackson for the drink he handed her.

  “I’ve tried to get Jeannie to come work with me,” Jackson added, “but she won’t leave Charlie with just anyone. Maybe if your plans work out Claire, Jeannie will reconsider.”

  “What plans?”

  Travis kept quiet as the two women managed to talk and keep Charlie from going off on a tear at the same time.

  “That’s wonderful, why didn’t you tell me?” Jeannie asked.

  “It’s still in the planning stage,” Claire explained. “I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, least of all mine.”

  “I have no doubt that once you set your mind to something you’ll make it happen, Claire,” Jeannie said with assurance. “Don’t you agree, Mr. Forrester?”

  “Please call me Travis, and yes our Claire has a way of making things go her way, most of the time. Claire, are you ready to go? We really should go back and let the owner know we’ll be in touch, one way or the other.”

  “Yes, of course,” Claire agreed, bending to give Jeannie a hug and kissing Charlie’s head. “It was so nice to meet you, Jackson. I hope we see each other again very soon.”

  “As do I, Claire,” Jackson said, rising and shaking Travis’s hand firmly.

  They returned to the building and spoke briefly with the older gentleman before flagging down a cab. Travis had a thoughtful, tight-lipped expression on his face the entire way back to his apartment and walked smack into the piano when he opened the door.

  “Hell, I forgot about this,” he sighed, giving her an annoyed glance before lifting her up and planting her on top so she could slide off the other side.

  “I’ll go and get my prospectus,” Claire offered as soon as her feet hit the floor.

  “And just where am I going to study it in this mess?” he demanded, planting his hands on his hips and looking around.

  “We’ll go in the kitchen and I’ll start dinner while you’re looking it over,” Claire suggested. “Or you could use your study.”

  “I’ve looked in my study and it’s crammed full of boxes,” Travis pointed out.

  “No, it’s really not,” she admitted, not meeting his eyes. “There’s really only one tall row right by the door but I wanted it to look much worse than it was. You can get to your desk quite easily.”

  “Is that so? Why am I surprised by your devious nature?” he asked, shaking his head in disgust. “You’d think by now I would know you’ll stop at nothing to get you own way.”

  Ignoring him, Claire went to her room and returned with a folder.

  “I think this should be everything you need.” Without another word, she walked away and made her way to the terrace for a cigarette.

  “You can’t smoke around children you know,” he called after her.

&nbs
p; “Then get away from me,” she mumbled under her breath. As soon as she’d mentioned possibly working out a deal for Jackson to stay in the building, Travis copped an attitude. It was almost as though he was jealous, but she knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. He couldn’t wait to get rid of her, and therein lay the best hope for him agreeing to her plans.

  No, she had to keep the pressure on, making her stay in his apartment as unpleasant for him as possible. Smiling, she finished her smoke and stubbed it out. Leaning over the railing she dropped the butt onto the terrace below. That was sure to cause some problems for ‘Mr. Follow the Rules.’ As the thought of the blue spatula flashed through her mind, she cringed and headed for the kitchen to make some homemade pasta. It would take a long time, as well as make a huge mess. While she was working, the rest of those evil blue instruments of torture would follow the wooden spoons. Soon they would be on their way down the chute to the incinerator.

  Chapter Nine

  Enticing smells assailed Travis’s nose as soon as he stepped from his office. His stomach growled and he realized he’d spent far longer than he intended going over her plans. The thoughtful care she’d put into preparing surprised him. There were forms for building permits, licensing applications, forms for health department inspections and applications for employment. Her prospectus contained marketing information and ideas, as well as detailed descriptions for an architect to incorporate into the plans.

  Travis yawned and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked out the terrace windows and noticed it was dark. He was going to go for it he decided, and it was not strictly to get her out of his apartment, although that would be a bonus. Even if she lost money, the tax write- off would be well worth it. Add the fact that he wouldn’t have to see her sweet little ass sashaying around all the time, tempting him to do all kinds of highly improper things to it, made it too good of a deal to pass up.

  Making his way to the kitchen, he smiled. Whatever she’d cooked had to be fantastic. Nothing could smell that good and be crap. Plus, maybe she would be so happy he’d decided to go along with her idea she would clean up tonight.

  The moment he stepped through the door, he froze in his tracks. On the counter was a wrapped plate, a glass of wine and a bowl of salad along with utensils and a napkin. Other than that small area every other surface was covered with dirty dishes and pots and pans. It was a total and complete mess from one end to the other. Sauce was splashed all over the stove. A pasta maker he’d bought on a whim and never used was encrusted with dried dough. Racks draped with hanging pasta of all kinds were everywhere imaginable, even on the empty stools. The sink was piled so high, Travis couldn’t believe the contents managed to stay contained. It must have been quite a feat for her to stack them so precisely. Claire was nowhere to be seen.

  His first impulse was to find her and wring her neck. His second was to drink the glass of wine and uncover the plate. Chicken Parmesan with angel hair pasta greeted him when he took off the wrapper. Taking a seat, he decided she was best dealt with on a full stomach.

  It was delicious, he’d give her that. Tender and juicy, the chicken was cooked to perfection, the pasta light and delicate. Judging from the temperature of the food she hadn’t been gone long from the crime scene.

  Slowly he ate his dinner, contemplating how he wanted to deal with her. There was no doubt it was intentional. No one could make this big of a mess by accident, even Claire. It was her way of getting back at him, unless of course she was seeking attention. Perhaps she wanted a repeat of last night? It was extremely foolish and risky on her part. She already had one spanking coming, why add to it?

  In any case, he couldn’t let her get away with it. This was one mess she was cleaning up. Pouring another glass of wine, Travis let his mind wander to the box hidden in the back of his closet. He’d found it after George’s death and never spoken of it, although it occasionally haunted his dreams. At the time Claire had been too heartbroken to deal with clearing out her husband’s things, so Travis had done it, slowly, over time. He never wanted her to feel as though he were trying to erase George from her life.

  When he discovered the intricately carved, velvet lined box he’d been stunned and slightly impressed with George’s adventurous nature. Claire’s Toy Box was full of high-end sexual toys ranging from expensive glass didoes and stainless steel butt plugs to solid gold nipple clamps. There was an assortment of vibrators including life-size penises and tiny eggs. There was even a string of anal beads that probably cost the world as they appeared to be real pearls.

  Travis was no prude and knew many couples had similar collections to enhance their marital relations. He just never expected to find that box among his best friend’s things. At the time, he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Should he dispose of the box? Should he ask Claire what she wanted him to do with it? The thought of that was just too disconcerting, especially given the circumstances. In the end, he’d brought the box home and hidden it in his closet, deciding that if the opportunity ever presented itself he would ask her about it. If not, eventually he would dispose of it. He had no idea if the box itself had any sentimental value to Claire. One thing he knew for sure was that nothing in that box had ever been used to punish the little brat and looking around his kitchen that was where his mind took him.

  He should never have kept it, never have brought it home. He could see himself spanking her bottom to a fiery red hue, seating a substantial plug in her naughty little ass and marching her back to the kitchen to clean up her mess. Travis was sure he would derive great satisfaction from watching her scurrying around the room eager to follow his instructions to the letter for once.

  No, he couldn’t do it, no matter how badly she deserved it, no matter how desperately he wanted to. He didn’t have the right. Claire was not his woman, not to love and certainly not to discipline. Last night had been a mistake, a big one. He could still taste her.

  It didn’t matter that she driven him crazy for more than twenty years. It also didn’t matter that she’d turned his nice, orderly life upside down, creating chaos wherever she went. For the last two years she’d taken off for God knows where, with God knows who and caused him sleepless nights and days filled with worry. Now she purposely trashed his home every chance, and in every way she could, but still…

  Heaving a defeated sigh Travis got up and started to clean up the kitchen. It was the phone call that changed everything. Picking up the call, Travis spent the next ten minutes listening to his irate downstairs neighbor bitch. Whoever was pitching their cigarette butts onto his terrace had better be dealt with immediately or he was going to file a complaint with the authorities. There was a tenants’ association in the building and certain rules were agreed upon before people were approved to purchase an apartment he reminded Travis.

  The longer Travis listened to the man rant, the angrier he got. Searching through his kitchen drawers while holding the phone away from his ear he realized he didn’t have even one tiny spatula left. His head damn near exploded. Apologizing profusely, he assured the man it would never happen again and he had no doubt he was speaking the truth. This time Claire had pushed him too far.

  Going into his bedroom he looked for the item he’d placed on his pillow that morning. It was nowhere to be found. In a last ditch effort to cool off he took a shower. Standing under the thundering water, he let it beat down on his tense shoulders.

  To think this afternoon he actually felt proud of her after listening to her plans. Finally, she was going to do something with her life other than go out of her way to annoy him. He’d spent a long time going over her paperwork, studying each detail and determined that she might have a solid business plan after all. Of course, Jackson had to go. Even though he seemed like a nice enough man, Claire had a lousy track record since George passed. Travis didn’t know nearly enough about Jackson to approve of him sharing such close quarters with her. There would be weeks, if not months of remodeling going on. That meant missing walls and temporar
y doors, uncovered windows and less than perfect security. In reality, it was probably better if she stayed right where she was until the project was complete.

  What was he thinking, Claire living with him for the next several months? It was out of the question. Completely moronic on his part!

  Unless, of course, he established some ground rules. Unless she could behave herself and act her age, stop going out of her way to get to him. But was she, was she really or was she just being Claire, a woman who’d spent the majority of her adult life with no boundaries, no limits placed on her at all? He owned part of this he realized as he pulled on a pair of pants. For nearly two years he continued to pamper and spoil her after George’s death.

  No, Travis was not free from blame. He’d contributed to the problem that was Claire, but he could change and so could she. He might not ever understand her. What would make a woman who’d already been over his knees once antagonize him by pitching her cigarettes onto a neighbor’s terrace? She had to have known he’d have a meltdown. So what was the deal? Did she want to be taken in hand? It no longer mattered, he decided as he dug the box from his closet. Whether she secretly wanted to be or not, that’s exactly what was going to happen. Travis was stepping up. It was time Claire Wellington, widow on the loose, found out just what kind of man she was dealing with.

  ***

  Claire lay on the bed in her room. She was furious. Travis spent hours in his study and never once called her in to ask her anything. That could only mean one thing. He wasn’t taking her seriously. Maybe he would after he spent the night cleaning up the kitchen, she thought smugly.

  She’d locked her door, disposed of everything he’d threatened to spank her with and taken a long leisurely bath before putting on a pair of blue baby doll pajamas. On her nightstand sat a big piece of chocolate cake and a bottle of water. Her cigarettes were in her purse, which lay on the dresser. She’d open her window to smoke if she needed one. Fluffing up her pillows, she lay back and watched TV with no sound, waiting to hear the explosion when Travis went into the kitchen. The jerk was probably napping in his study all afternoon anyway. In any case, she didn’t have to leave her room. She had everything she needed. When he finally decided to put in an appearance and knocked on her door she would tell him she wasn’t receiving guests.